


If The World Ended Tonight

by TrustMeImTheAuthor



Series: The Galaxy Album [1]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Miscommunication, eventual kiss, guilt and reconciling, helmet comes off but only when your eyes are closed, unrequited love and affection, you get wounded
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-26 18:13:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30109998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrustMeImTheAuthor/pseuds/TrustMeImTheAuthor
Summary: Work 1 of The Galaxy Album, a series of one-shots in which each piece is inspired by a song choice.You are headed towards a normal exchange with Karga on Nevarro, when shit hits the fan.  As you go to help him, you find your old partner, The Mandalorian, is there as well.  How do you deal with the undeniable, unspoken truths of your past connection, and the way things fell apart?  Can you ever truly look at him the same again?Inspired by If The World Ended Tonight by Jordan Suaste((Includes a link to an author's choice playlist for each piece you can listen to while reading for ~the vibes~))
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, Mando/reader, The Mandalorian/Reader
Series: The Galaxy Album [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2215674
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	If The World Ended Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Hey hey! Hope you guys like this! Please give me feedback if you can so I know if this is something worth pursuing further. I think it's a really fun concept, so we'll see how it plays!
> 
> Link to Author's-Choice Playlist for this Work: https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLVgXBeLlXppFYtJBJgGuQsQ33dzZgYAt8

“Would you like a peach, miss?”

The voice is soft and inviting to your ears, causing you to look up for probably the first time today. When in Nevarro, you try to keep your head down as much as possible. Both because you know your reputation, and also because there are so many fucking vendors here. 

To your left, a small child is beaming up at you. His pale complexion is smeared with the various amounts of dirt and dust that tend to come with working outside on this dry, sandy planet. You imagine you look quite dirty yourself, after the past few days you’ve had. In his hands, he is hefting a wicker basket -almost as big as his body- as high as he can towards you. You stop, crossing your arms over your chest, to regard him. 

“What’s your name?” you ask quietly. It would be unwise for you to speak up and draw eyes from onlookers, especially on a main path like this. 

“Jeri!” he says with a big, wide grin. The corners of your lips pull a bit upwards. You press them together, and crouch low to get on his level. 

“You don’t have to hold them up for me, buddy. Put them down right here, let me take a look.”

Jeri immediately lets his arms drop, easing the basket to the ground as much as he can. He sighs in relief, letting go for a minute to roll his shoulders. You peer into the basket, mouth beginning to tingle and water. It has been… a  _ very _ long time since you have had a peach. The pinks and soft yellows of the skin look almost foreign to you. 

“How much?” 

“Two for a credit!”

“Two for a credit?!” you repeat, taken aback. You place one hand on your chest and look at him. He is looking back at you quite deeply, still with a welcoming smile. His eyes wise and careful. “That’s a steal, are you sure there aren’t any grubs in here?” 

“No! Never-” he begins, brows furrowed. But then he sees the smile creeping across your expression, and relaxes. 

“I’m teasing you,” you reassure him. “They look beautiful. I’ll take four.” 

His face lights up.

“Please, pick whichever ones you like,” he invites you enthusiastically. You wiggle your fingers as you hover them above the basket. Then you go in, feeling the ones you’re drawn to for ripeness. The soft fuzz brushes past your fingertips. Before you can stop it, your mind snaps to the connection. 

For the briefest of moments, you’re back in the hull. Brushing careful strokes over a little green head.  _ Softening down the little peach fuzz hairs. Humming little lullabies from long, long ago.  _

You squint your eyes shut for a second, taking a breath.  _ Nope.  _ The memory goes away the second you banish it. You’ve gotten good at doing that over the past few months. 

Maybe too good.

You arrive back at reality, and quickly select the first four you come across. As you reach into the side of your utility belt for your credit pouch, you can tell Jeri is watching you. You tell yourself it doesn’t bother you. 

The two credits are plucked out with your fingers and outstretched to him. You meet his eyes again. They’re looking at you with curiosity, but nothing more than that. Relief sinks its way down your veins. He takes the credits without question, eyeing them happily. 

“Thank you for buying from me!” 

You stand back up to your full height, and reach behind your cloak for the small bag attached to your back. There’s a side pocket, which you unzip and slide three of the peaches into. The fourth one stays in your palm. As you zip the pack back up, you turn back to Jeri.

“Do you get many customers?” you ask, curious. His face falls. Small hands come up to fiddle with the light pink canvas texture of his shirt.

“The grown-ups here do a lot better than me,” he admits. 

“Well, you’re an excellent salesman, my friend. Don’t give up on it,” you proffer back. Then you toss the peach up high in the air, still looking at him. He watches in shock. It falls down and into your other hand. The shock turns into a big, excited smile. You return it, and wiggle your fingers as you take a few steps back. “Smell ya later, Jeri!” 

“Bye!” he calls after you. You’ve already turned around, back to pursuing your destination. You have probably a mile or two left to go until you get there. 

After a bit, you remember the peach, still clutched in your hand. You lift it to your mouth, absent-mindedly biting into it. The taste explodes in your mouth. Sweet like sugar, but with a bit of acid to bite at the end. You almost stop in your tracks, a deep hum quietly bubbling in your chest. Your other hand raises to your mouth, wiping the juices off your chin. These things are way messier than you remember, too. 

As you keep walking and chewing, the curse of being stuck in your own head comes back to bite you. Without distractions, you wander off. The sweet burst of the next chew sends you back in time.

_ “Do you want to see me destroy him at this game? Yeah?!” you cooed at the Child, who was cradled into your hip. His little ears twitched, staring up at you curiously. Big beady eyes, filled with mischief, gave you your answer. You grinned, and set him down gently in his floating pram again. Then you turned to look back.  _

_ Mando had his arms crossed over that bulky chest plate. The helmet was cocked to the side a bit, shoulders thrown back.  _

_ “What?” you called, walking towards the little counter space, pulled out from the hull wall, that separated you. On it was a small wooden ball and several mugs filled with ale. “You concerned yet?”  _

_ “Concerned for  _ **_you_ ** _ ,” came the cocky, modulated voice. “If memory serves, it was  _ you  _ wasted on your ass the other day on-” _

_ “Oh shut up,” you interrupted, rolling your eyes as you grabbed the ball off the table. “You’re not giving enough credit to the person who literally taught you how to have fun,” you pointed out, spreading your arms wide in exaggerated presentation. Mando let out a quiet huff under his breath.  _

_ “Fine. How do we play,” he demanded, the word ‘play’ almost painful as it came out of his mouth.  _

_ “Best aim wins. Each person gets one chance on each mug. You take your shots, then me. Whoever gets the most in is safe. The other one has to drink,” you explained, rolling the ball in between your fingers. _

_ “Seems easy enough,” he admitted, dropping his hands to his sides again. _

_ “All of it,” you added. _

_ “What?”  _

_ “You have to drink all of it.” You gestured to all five mugs. His helmet tilted down a bit as he scanned the table, taking in the situation.  _

_ “Oh.” _

_ You smiled a bit, and tossed him the ball. He-of course-caught it effortlessly, without even looking. Backing up, you leaned the back of your shoulders against the hull wall. _

_ “You first,” you invited.  _

_ He took a moment, getting his posture right. You knew you had him. You didn’t need to see his face for that. The second he started actually calculating how to win you always knew you had drawn him into having fun. The man was nauseatingly competitive. And you’d beaten him enough times that he now saw you as a constant challenge. After shifting for a second, he stilled, and then threw to the first mug.  _

_ It hit bullseye with a soft splash. He nodded a bit to himself, before going to pluck it out of the drink.  _

_ The next three, unsurprisingly, were perfect hits. In all honesty, you had fully expected to be the one getting schwasty tonight. You guys had a while to go before dropping out of hyperspace. Who could blame you for wanting to pass that time effectively? As he set up for the last shot, your eyes flicked away to look at the Child again. He was still watching Mando, eyes aglow. You imagined he was probably going to tucker out soon, he’d been awake for pretty long now- _

**Plink. Plink plink plink…**

_ You looked for the sound. A small thing was approaching your foot. The wooden ball rolled to a stop before you.  _

_ Your mouth opened, already widening into a smug grin.  _

_ “I…” you tried to start. Then you leaned down and plucked the ball off the floor. You wiped it off with the inside of your undershirt, looking back to Mando. He seemed to be staring at the final mug. Gawking, maybe. “Well, shit. My turn, I guess,” you practically beamed. The helmet looked up at you slowly, black visor betraying absolutely nothing. But you knew everything. _

_ He was pissed.  _

_ You cracked your neck, pushing your back off the wall to stand. Without any set up, you tossed the first.  _

**Splash.**

_ Humming your approval, you went and fished it out, moving onto the second. _

**Splash.**

_ The third one: _

**Splash.**

_ You approached each mug with about as much effort as a Bantha swatting flies on a hot day at rest.  _

**Splash** ,  _ came the fourth. You stopped for a minute, chewing your lip as you peered at Mando.  _

_ “Concerned  _ **now** _?” you questioned, giving the kid a quick, smug glance.  _

_ “Take the shot,” he grumbled, shaking his head a bit. You walked forward slowly, enjoying the experience. Taking your time. Making him wait. Once you finally got to the table, you looked into the mug, and back to Mando with a false sense of interest. _

_ “Would you look at that, there it is! In the mug!-” _

_ “Take. The shot.”  _

_ You grabbed it out, feigning hurt. _

_ “So mean to me, Mando. Sounds like I might be getting to you,” you suggested, pivoting on heel to walk back to your spot. Except this time, you didn’t face the table. You kept facing the wall. Waited a few seconds. Just for the effect. _

_ “Can you just-” _

**Splash.**

_ The hull was silent for a few seconds. You tried desperately not to laugh. Truly, you had not expected that to land. Taking the shot backwards was meant to be a peace offering, not a straight up fuck you. You turned slowly, expression oozing with amusement. Mando was looking at you, hands raised in front of his chest in some sort of attempt to come up with a response. He clasped them together instead, looking back at the mug, and then back to you again.  _

_ “Well fuck,” he said simply. You tried to hold it in, but it was too late. The laughter burst through your lips and into the air. You laughed long and hard, clutching at your chest. As you did, you heard a soft sound below your own. He was laughing, too. It was a young sound. Much younger than you had ever expected anything coming out of him to be. You wiped a fake tear from your eye, and straightened up again.  _

_ “Alright, Mandalorian. Rules are rules. You must drink. But FIRST!” you added, putting a finger in the air as you raced across the hull. Thank gods you hadn’t forgotten this, or they might have gone bad. You found your pack, tucked in a corner, and rifled through it. _

_ “What now?” he asked with good-natured disdain.  _

_ “Something I think you’ll actually like,” you replied. Extra blaster, random trash, old gloves. “Ah!”  _

_ You pulled out a small sack from your bag, and brought it back to the table. As you began untying it, Mando approached the table more, closing the space. Even after all this time, it was annoying how undeniable his presence was. He was formidable- even to those who got to know him, like you. You ignored the slight anxiety and reached your hand into the now open sack. Out came some bright yellow spheres, and a small, clear baggie.  _

_ “What the hell is that?” _

_ “This, Mando, is tradition,” you said with flourish. You placed the items on the table, and retrieved your smaller knife from its sheath at your side. “Basically, when I was a lot younger, I ran with this crew of kids. We sold whatever we could for change. Enough to survive. Get some food to eat and maybe a roof sometimes.” As you were explaining, you began taking one of the yellow things and cutting it up. The second you broke the skin, a wonderful, acidic tang filled the air.  _

_ “Anyways, every once in a while, when we had a really good day, we could buy something extra. So one of us would go down to a corner shop and buy these,” you explained, picking up one of the pieces you had just cut. “They’re lemons. Not surprised you’ve never seen them before. They only grow on certain planets, and usually not the kind that require a big scary Mandalorian to interfere.” At that you gave him a little look. He tilted his head to the side, one of his hands coming up to hook into his belt. You imagined he was rolling his eyes.  _

_ “And we’d also get  _ **this** ,”  _ you continued, shaking the little baggie in front of him. “Sugar,” you stated. The little granules shifted around in the bag. You held it out for the Child to see, too. He gurgled and reached out towards it with his little menace claws. You turned back to the table, opening the baggie. “So you sprinkle the sugar over the lemon, like this.” _

_ You did so, taking one of your gloves off first. The thought of it already had you salivating.  _

_ “And then you eat the fleshy part. It tastes like…” You trailed off, trying to remember how to describe it. The feelings filled the insides of your mouth like muscle memory. “Tastes like… fuck I don’t know. Tastes good,” you laughed, shaking your head at your own struggle.  _

_ The Mandalorian had been watching you the whole time, unmoving. There was… some inexplicable difference to him. It happened, sometimes. While you were on a tangent, or poking fun at him. Every once in a while, he’d just… soften. You watched him, unsure.  _

_ “Drink first.” Your voice was soft, mimicking his energy. You turned back around again. Dutifully lifting your arm, you covered your eyes and closed them, facing the wall. Mando shifted, and you heard the sound of his helmet rubbing against his hair as he pulled it off. Then the gentle clank as it was placed on the hull floor.  _

_ The drinks went quickly.  _ Gulp, gulp, gulp,  **SLAM** ! Gulp, gulp, gulp,  **SLAM** !  _ You snorted a bit to yourself, listening to him destroy all five in a minute or two.  _

_ “And you say I’m a professional,” you poked when he was finally done. He let out a little puff of air. Felt weird every time to hear him without the modulator. Felt weird to know he trusted you enough to take the helmet off at all.  _

_ “And now?” he asked.  _

_ “Now lemons!” you responded, holding your free hand out behind you. You did grabby fingers, other forearm still covering your eyes. The only sounds other than the quiet hum of the ship were his footsteps clunking across the floor. After a moment, you felt a few soft, wet wedges make contact with your palm. And his fingers, minus the glove. They grazed along your palm as he gave them to you. They left almost as soon as they came, but the sensation was so foreign to you you almost flinched.  _

_ The two of you had never touched before, you realized.  _

_ “Okay,” you shook out of it. “Give some to monster.”  _

_ “Alright,” he cued, letting you know he’d done so.  _

_ “Okay, remember not to eat the rind. Just the fleshy stuff. Go!” _

_ You bit into your first one, eyes still closed. Instantly, you were flooded with sensations. So sour it bit into your tongue like fire, but then also so soothingly sweet you thought you’d melt. Your mouth filled with liquid, stinging at the underside of your tongue. It brought you right back to the alleys of countless years ago. Hunkered down under an overhang. Dirty hands clutching onto the little treat for dear life.  _

_ The Child let out a loud exclamation, something between a squeal and a cry. You laughed, wiping your mouth a bit.  _

_ “Okay? Cannot tell if that was a positive or negative review.” _

_ “He ate all of them in one go. So probably positive,” Mando replied. There was a hint of fondness to his voice. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was growing attached. And fast.  _

_ There was some shuffling and adjusting. The familiar slide of the helmet. _

_ “Can I turn around?” you called out. _

_ “Yes.” _

_ You did so, blinking eyes open again to readjust to the light. The Child’s face was screwed up, eyes barely open as he processed all the weird sensations he was probably experiencing. You smiled, coming to brush your thumb over the top of his head. _

_ “One at a time, silly… though I guess we might have predicted this from you,” you admitted. Your brain pictured several such examples of him cramming ungodly-sized things down his throat. You brought another piece of lemon to your mouth, biting into it with an enjoyable wince. The taste was so stark it almost drilled into your teeth. You loved it. As you chewed, you looked back to Mando. He’d put the mugs in the sink already, and was walking back to the table again.  _

_ “Did you like it?” you wondered aloud. The question surprised you. You hadn’t meant it to sound as… caring? Your relationship tended to take on a very comrade-like roughness. The domesticity of the tone caught you off-guard, and brought heat to your cheeks. Mando had stopped walking, now a few feet from you. Just the table between you. He held for a minute, obviously unreadable. Sometimes the helmet was so fucking annoying. Especially when you were embarrassed. You looked away from him, playing it off as you turned to take care of the kid.  _

_ “I liked it a lot,” he said simply. Gently.  _

_ “Good,” you had hummed. The heat from your cheeks never left. _

__ You’re rudely yanked back to present as you hear what can only be described as a shit ton of blaster fire. You balk for a moment, staring out into the distance. About a half a mile in front of you stands the cantina you’re heading for. The one where you’re going to cash in your pucks for more credits. Where Karga is supposed to meet you. The blaster fire gets louder. More people in the mix. Dozens, you count. 

You take off into a jog, concerned. Fights break out all the time at this place. It’s a cantina full of bounty hunters drinking alcohol. Bound to happen. But this one sounds bad. Bad enough that even the people around you are going back inside of their homes and businesses, or staring out towards the cantina in worry. 

“Watch out,” you call to a person in a blue tunic, their back to you as they look towards the action. You veer to the side, to move past them. 

A huge, ear-splitting  **BOOM** shatters into the air. You stop, wincing as it pierces into your head. When you open your eyes again, there’s nothing. Then, smoke begins to billow into the sky. People around you begin to shout and gasp in concern, more and more of them running to get away. You let out a small  _ oof _ as the person you were trying to avoid runs straight into you. They flee back the way you had come from. 

“Fuck,” you mutter, grabbing the blaster from your side holster. You hate to admit it, but you’ve grown reluctantly fond of Karga. Can’t leave him in that kind of trouble. With a groan you take off into a full-out sprint towards the cantina. 

It takes you about five minutes, but when you get to the back wall, you know something is terribly wrong. On your way you had heard several more explosive bursts, and now that you’re close you can feel heat coming off the walls. The inside is definitely on fire. You move to the left side of the building, and lift the blaster close to you, ready to fight. Then you peek very carefully around the corner.

Your stomach drops. A dead Stormtrooper is lying in the entryway to the side door, surrounded by growing flames. 

“Shit,” you hiss, closing your eyes as you whip back around to hide again. “I’ve gotta get in there… Where…” You wrack your brain, thinking of what to do. Then you remember the small side door on the right side. You burst off in that direction, checking the corner of the right side before you move. There’s definitely movement in front of the building. Someone’s still out there. But they can’t see you. So you open the door and slip out of sight. 

The whole cantina is practically roaring. The fire is collecting on the walls and scattering over the floor. You wince as the heat and smoke immediately assault your eyes and lungs. Fighting as hard as you can, you push forward, picking spots as far from the fire as possible to step. You search into the smoke and flame for any signs of life. The entire place seems to be still. Lifeless. You want to call out, but remember the people in front. Whoever they are, they are obviously not something you can take on in a one person fight right now. 

You push further into the room, hissing quietly as the flames lap too close to you. You’re definitely getting burned, but you’re noticing something. A path through the rubble. You peer further, leaning. It leads to the wall. Where there’s now an open hole where the vent grate used to be. Someone escaped. 

You don’t even hesitate before you’re diving through the hole and into wherever this thing is going to take you. 

The first thing you feel is relief. The air is much cooler down here. You take a moment to catch your breath, coughing as quietly as possible into your cloak. You’re covered in ash and debris. Below your feet, you spot a huge amount of commotion. There are more than a few tracks through the dust. One set seems to drag across the floor, as if the person could not pick up their feet. Dark patches of liquid follow behind. An injury, probably. 

You wheeze a bit as you take off after the tracks. They lead about a mile into the tunnel before things start to get weird. You smell… sulfur. And burning. For a moment, you’re worried that you’ve stumbled into another fire. But then you turn the next corner. In the middle of the walkway is a large lump. It’s dark, so you have a hard time making it out. You reach into your pocket and retrieve a small flashlight. As you move towards the pile you click it on. It steals your breath away.

An enormous assortment of armor. Mandalorian armor. Empty and discarded. The implications of that… 

You rush forward, dropping to your knees as you begin to claw through the armor. Your breath is coming in shorter and shorter, half-strangled by the smoke. There are dark browns, and greys, and even some black sets. You’re trying to tell, but it’s dark and the light is slipping out of your hands. Your shaking hands. 

Footsteps catch in your ears. You bolt to your feet, blaster drawn. From the corner of a hallway to the left, a figure steps out. A brilliant golden helmet. It’s a Mandalorian. She regards you, blades drawn, and looks to the pile where you have been rummaging. 

You immediately put your blaster in your holster, raising your hands.

“I’m so sorry, I meant no disrespect. My… my friend he’s one of you, he’s from here… Fuck, I don’t even know his name, I… Uh, he’s the one with the fancy armor. The beskar? Yes, the beskar! Please tell me he’s not… Is he…?” You’re gasping for air, coughing every once in a while at the irritation in the back of your throat. The Mandalorian stands, watching you. Chest rising and falling very slowly. Collected. You remind yourself who you are. This is not how you fucking act. For a second, you close your eyes, and slow your breathing. Calm your heart rate down. Then you look back to her, squaring your shoulders. “I’m sorry. Do you know the man I’m talking about?”

“Yes,” she says simply. Her voice is silky smooth beneath the modulator. It’s so different from his. Very strong. Almost regal. 

“Is he… Is he dead?” You try not to choke as you say the word. She’s just watching you, weapons still held casually before her. In seconds, you have no doubt you’d be dead if she wants it. 

“No,” she replies after a while. Then she raises one blade, and points it further down the hall. “He and his foundling are headed to the river.” 

Your heart drops through your stomach and out your ass. You don’t know what to feel. Thank fucking stars he’s alive, and the Child is alive. But they’re  _ here _ . You have no choice. Obviously you have to go help them. It’s not even a question. But you feel sick. 

“Okay… Okay. Thank you so much. I’m.” You pause for a moment, trying to find the right words. Your eyes fall on the giant pile of armor. All the bodies that used to fit so perfectly in them, nowhere to be found. Faces you’d never see, name’s you’d never know. Gone forever. The part of them that had been exposed to the world their entire lives, now discarded on the floor. The spirituality of it hits you for probably the first time in your life. The deeper meaning. The impact. You feel emotion well in your chest, pressing into your lungs. If you think about it more, you think it’ll crush you. “I am so sorry that this happened,” you finally breathe out, looking back at her. She sheaths her weapons at her sides. 

“They died well. This is the Way,” she says gently. You nod, swallowing. 

“This is the Way,” you respond instinctively. She holds for a second. It almost seems you’ve surprised her. Then she bends down to begin collecting more armor. You take that as your cue to leave. 

You walk for what feels like forever. Time is moving much slower now that you know what you’re headed towards. Who you’re headed for. Gods, for a second you really thought… You clench your jaw tight. By the faint smell of sulfur, you guess you have about a mile or so of tunnel to get through. You take off into a jog. And of course, your mind takes off, too. 

_ You had been limping along the path for about an hour. Your breathing was shaky, and painful. As you gasped in a bigger breath, you reached into your shirt under the armor, testing at your ribs. Ouch. Definitely one or two broken or bruised. You gritted your teeth, and moved forward. Wrapped around your left leg was what was left of your old cloak. You’d ripped it into strips, to make a quick patch job. Enough to get you back. Maybe…  _

_ The light tan fabric was almost completely dark red now. You let out a small groan as you pushed on. In the middle of the fight, one of them had gotten you real good with a blaster. A clean shot through. The fabric was so tight on your leg it was almost numb. Not numb enough though. Another strip of fabric was tied securely around your head. Luckily, that one had been a grazing shot off the side of your temple. You felt the blood trickling through and down your cheek, weirdly hot- like tears.  _

_ The amount of physical pain you were in was nearly surmounted by the pain in your heart. Pain that was swiftly turning into rage, the closer and closer you got to the Razor Crest. It was in sight now, a couple hundred yards away. At the pace you were at, it was going to take a few minutes at least. You stared forward, focusing your gaze on a small point on the ship to drive you forward. With each drag of your leg, each forced out breath, you were filled with more vitriol. More anger. More betrayal. Hurt.  _

_ Gods, the leg hurt so bad. You knew you just needed to get there, but you had been putting weight on it for so long and it was exhaustingly excruciating. You ignored the tears and snot mixing with the blood, letting out a frustrated grunt as you pushed. Always closer, but never quite there. _

_ Once you were about fifty yards out, the boarding ramp of the Crest began descending. Mando was already bursting out of the ship, nearly hopping the distance to the ground. Then he stopped dead. Helmet staring directly at you. You stared at the spot you had drilled your eyes into on the ship, and kept pushing forward. Even after he sprung back into motion, rushing towards you, you didn’t look at him. Even after he reached you, arms jutting forward and back as he decided whether to touch you or not, you didn’t look at him. You pushed passed him, wheezing and probably half-crying as you made your way to the ramp. You could hear his footsteps behind you.  _

_ “Let me help-” _

_ “SHUT. UP.” Your voice sounded foreign to you as it came out. It was breathy, and low, and  _ **_dark_ ** _. Sharp bolts of pain rocketed up your thigh and into your hips and stomach, nearly bowling you over. You let out a muffled cry, and took another step. Your toes were nearly touching the ramp now. You were close. You just needed to get up the steps. _

_ “You can’t make it up the ramp by yourself,” he spoke, still directly behind you. You stopped, directly in front of it. Tired eyes stared up the ramp. Something usually so easy it wasn’t even a question. Now it felt like a mountain. You felt weak. And alone. But you knew better than to make a fool of yourself. You held your left arm out wordlessly. _

_ In a moment, he was there, all but hauling you up the ramp and into the ship. You hissed as his arm wrapped around your ribcage, pressing in. Once you were inside, he let you go to shut the door. You hobbled inside, to the nearest crate, and sat. It was more like you threw your body weight with all that was left in you. The second you hit it you cried out, the pressure it had put on your leg wound firing webs of lightning up the left half of your body.  _

_ Mando was already rummaging around the ship, no doubt looking for medical supplies. The white hot lights in your eyes were starting to fade, and you leaned up against the hull wall, desperately trying to find some evenness to your breath. You were vaguely aware of soft, worried coos in the distance. The Child was in his pram somewhere, trying to talk to you. You wished you could respond, but you just didn’t have anything left in the tank.  _

_ After a few minutes, Mando returned wordlessly, dropping to his knees in front of you.  _

_ “How bad is it?” he asked. You turned your head away to the wall, leaning your cheek against the cool metal and closing your eyes. You heard the modulator pick up a very heavy, cracked sigh. Then his hands were on your leg, gently untying the fabric around your thigh. You chewed into your cheek, trying not to think too deeply about anything. About the fucking hole in your leg, for example. After he lifted the bandages, you could hear a small, disapproving hiss. “Is it a clean shot?” You moved your head slightly down, and then back to neutral again. “Alright I’m getting the bacta. Hang on.” He took his hands off you to dig through several bags and boxes he had splayed out around him. You breathed a deeper breath, a small wheeze of pain sounding as you did, to say, _

_ “Gonna follow us, needa go.”  _

_ “You’re bleeding bad, can’t leave yet,” he shot back. The abrasiveness made you so fucking mad you almost couldn’t see. Your hand shot out to grab him by the back of his cloak, and yank him towards you. The action sent stabbing pain into your ribcage, but you didn’t care. Your eyes were fire as they stared into the visor, now inches from your face. You held him there for a minute, catching your breath from the action, before taking in another painfully deep one.  _

_ “Fucking. Now.” was all you were capable of getting out. You let him go, slumping your weight back against the wall. He stayed for a second, just frozen. Then he got up and ran.  _

_ You heard all the typical sounds. The ship powered up fast, and took off shakily and messily into the sky. You gripped onto the straps of the crate for dear life, as the ship rocketed off. It took a few minutes to get everything situated and get into hyperspace. During that time you had been doing a balancing act of falling asleep and experiencing waves of nausea and pain. _

_ When he returned to you, the rest of your medical care was done in silence.  _

_ After a few hours, the bacta had mostly healed you, though there had only been enough left for your leg. You didn’t mind that. That wasn’t the issue. Not even close.  _

_ Mando had been in the cockpit for pretty much the entire time after the patch up was done. You were still sitting on that same crate, staring into space as you thought about that last moment. Standing in that cantina together.  _

_ It had been so busy. But you knew you weren’t mistaken when you saw them. The same two hooded figures that had shown up on a different planet the previous night. You’d leaned in close to Mando’s helmet, right by his ear.  _

_ “We have to go. Those people are on us,” you had said. _

_ “I know,” had come his low, quiet reply. “But if we leave now they’ll tail us back to the ship.” You had sat with that for a moment, pretending to be interested in the drink you had barely touched. Then you bit on the inside of your bottom lip. You knew what had to be done. As if on cue, the modulator sparked again. “One of us has to stay here.”  _

_ “It’s me,” you whispered back into the mug you had lifted to your mouth, before taking a long drink. _

_ “Are you sure?” he questioned.  _

_ “You gonna come back for me?” you asked, drink still by your lips.  _

_ “Yes.” _

_ “Then how’s this for sure?” And you took your mug, standing tall, and fucking launched it at one of the cloaked figures. It hit him directly in the skull with a hard crack. “Go,” you hissed, pulling a blaster as you lunged across the cantina at them. By the next time you had looked at the table, he and the Child were long gone.  _

_ And then he had never come back.  _

_ You’d held out for a long time against the two of them, but they were not typical Guild hunters. Something was wrong. They were far too skilled, and far too aware of your own fighting style. By the time they started actually getting in strikes against you, the cantina had long since cleared out.  _

_ You’d fought them until all three of you were exhausted. Until one of them had a blaster shot through the middle of his skull. The remaining one and you had fought a long time past knocking the blasters out of each other's hands. You remembered taking your fists and slamming them down into her face. Again and again. Then you’d get overtaken, and she’d kick into the side of your ribcage. Over and over. Then you’d found your pocket knife on the floor and rammed it into the back of her knee.  _

_ After almost thirty minutes, the fight finally ended. And you had then begun the harrowing process of dragging your mangled body all the way back to the Crest.  _

_ Mando eventually came back to the hull, even more silent than usual. You stirred, and pushed yourself up onto your feet. He moved forward immediately to help, but you held out the hand not steadying yourself on the wall to stop him. His journey fell short a few feet. You stood up, wincing at the pain you had forgotten came from standing. Though your leg was leagues better, your ribs and head were still worse for wear.  _

_ “I’m showering,” you croaked, not looking at him. You hadn’t looked at him since that furious moment back on the ground.  _

_ “I’ll get you a new set of clothes-” _

_ “It’s a little late to help out.” _

_ It was unnecessary. You knew that. And yet it felt so fucking good to say it. To verbalize some of the intense pain you were in. He didn’t move a muscle. You limped lightly around him to get to your compartment. You snagged clothes and then went into the refresher, slamming the door shut behind you.  _

_ You’d stayed in the refresher long after your shower was over. Once the mirror had defogged a bit, you had stared at your naked form for a while. Looking at the harsh, inch long gash across your forehead. The nasty colours of the bruise welting up and spreading across the side of you. You looked clean, but still absolutely destroyed. The shower had not helped as much as you thought it would. And most of all, your eyes. They just looked… dark.  _

_ You had only gotten dressed to leave as you felt the ship rock out of hyperspace. When you opened the door, he was waiting against the opposite wall. Arms crossed. You still didn’t look at him directly, veering off to throw your tattered, stained clothes into a free bag. You could feel him. Burrowing little holes in the back of your skull. Your pounding, sore skull.  _

_ “We need to talk about it,” he said, after a bit. You straightened up, still facing away from him.  _ **Ah yes, talking about it. This should go well.** _ You stayed quiet, pretending like you were moving more stuff around in your compartment. “Stop ignoring me. It’s childish.” His voice was rougher. More riled up. You widened your eyes, and threw your hands out into an open palmed shrug. Then you grabbed your flask from your bag, turning on heel to head back to the fucking crate again. You trudged right by him, feeling pitifully small and seconds from losing it. He took in a sharp breath that you ignored, taking a swig as you sat heavily in your place.  _

_ “There was a third hunter,” he said, low. You perked up, eyebrows raising as you took another swig. Bigger one this time. “He followed the Child and I to the ship. I had to take care of him. That’s why I… I couldn’t get back to you in time.” You furrowed your brow and pouted your lip, nodding along with a cynical kind of gumption. Then you took one more swig, and put the flask down next to you.  _

_ “So that’s why it took you an hour and a half to step out of your ship?” you questioned smoothly, gazing off into a corner. “Big, scary Mandalorian? The apex predator of the Guild… ?” He didn’t say anything. The air felt dead. “Don’t think it took you an hour and half to kill that guy, Mando.” He was quiet. Quiet for a long time. The longer it went, the more sour and bitter you got. After a while, you finally turned your neck, and looked at him straight. He was still watching you. He looked smaller. You wished it made you feel anything other than fury and heartbreak. The poison was too much. It bubbled to the surface, up and out of your lips. “How long did you spend deciding whether to leave me or not?” _

_ He didn’t respond right away.  _

_ Fuck, that hurt more than any blaster shot, any kick, any slice. It fucking punched at you like the Razor Crest itself had rammed into your chest. You let out a bitter, pained laugh. The tears pricking your eyes were an afterthought.  _

_ “Know how long it’s been since I’ve made a credit?” you asked, leaning your head back against the wall. No response. “At least a few months. Few months at least. We said we were going to work together because we made more. Got more bounties in one. More bang for the buck. ‘Member?” No response. You smiled again. It was sadder this time, more cracked. “Made a good team, Mando.” _

_ “That’s not fair.” His voice sounded so different. It was shaky. Unsure. Guilty. “You knew what you signed up for when we kept The Child-” _

_ “ _ **_DON’T-_ ** _ ” you practically roared, before catching yourself. You took a breath, the piercing pain almost familiar by now. “Don’t you dare. You know this is not about him. Fucking shame on you,” you spat, looking back at the wall again.  _

_ “Well how the fuck am I supposed to help you earn credits when you know we aren’t hunting right now?” His voice sounded strained. Desperate.  _

_ “That’s not the fucking point, Mando,” you countered, pushing yourself off the wall to stand again.  _

_ “Don’t do that, you’re still hurt.”  _

_ You laughed. Right in his face. Laughed though your face was contorted in a ghastly smile of pain as you did. You looked around, exasperated, as you wheezed out the last of it.  _

_ “Why is that, Mando?” He looked away from you. You took a few steps towards him. “No, why is that, Mando?” You waited. It took him a bit to work up the nerve. _

_ “Because I never came.” _

_ There it is. You had been waiting for it. The verbal confirmation. And there it was. _

_ Why was it even more painful? You turned away from him for a second to catch the sob that almost clawed up your throat and out into the air. You clenched your other fist at your side, nails digging so hard into your skin you thought you might draw blood. A few tears dropped free, and you wiped at them angrily.  _

_ “I get it,” you confessed suddenly, heart caving in on itself. “I do. He’s like a son to you. He is your son, pretty much. I know you won’t admit it to yourself, but you’d do anything in the universe to keep him safe. Including throwing me to the wolves.” You turned to face him once more, another tear pinching free to roll down your sore cheek. He was so rigid you thought he might be dead. But then he breathed a little bit. A ragged breath. Was he-? _

_ “I care about you,” he croaked, a half-sigh. You closed your eyes, head pounding, and tears falling faster now.  _

_ “That may be,” you replied. You weren’t blind. He trusted you more than you’d seen him trust most other living things. “But not as much as I thought,” came the blunt admission. “Not as much as I care about you.”  _

_ The cabin was frosty, and quiet. You drew sharp, short painful breaths in. You’d never cried in front of him before. But you couldn’t do it anymore. You just let them go.  _

_ “Where are we?” you asked, after a while. _

_ “Nevarro,” he replied, almost imperceptibly. You let out an exasperated huff, rolling your eyes into the back of your head. It was ironically perfect.  _

_ “Land us.” He stood still, just watching. “Now.” _

_ While the ship had landed, you had packed what little you had. It didn’t take long. Just a duffle and a backpack. You tried not to think about it too hard. Every once in a while you’d stop just to let out a few broken, painful heaves. And then you’d straighten back up again and get back to it.  _

_ By the time the landing gear hit the ground, you were by the doors. He descended the stairs like he was headed to death. You waited there, quiet. The pram followed behind him, hovering. You closed your eyes the second you saw it, clenching your jaw so tight you thought you’d bite through the bone.  _

_ When you looked again, they were both in front of you. Mando wasn’t facing you. He went to open the door for you. The kid was looking up at you, eyes already watering. He knew something was wrong. He was always smart like that. Cleverer than either of you could ever know. You took a step to him, falling gently to your knees. His little clawed hand reached to you immediately, touching your cheek. You choked out a little whine of deep pain, trying not to break down completely. Not yet. Then you grabbed it in your own hand, holding it tight to you. You stayed there for a minute, and kissed his little palm. Then you took his face in your hands, thumbs smoothing over his little cheeks. He was whimpering softly, lip jutting further and further out.  _

_ “You,” you began, already so close to breaking. You had to stop for a moment to get enough breath to speak. “Are one of the best things that ever happened to me. I love you, okay? I don’t ever want you to think that I don’t love you. Please don’t think that. But I have-... I have to go. Your dad is gonna… is gonna take SUCH good care of you. He’s going to get you safe. Forever.” Your breath was shallow and panicky. He let out soft cries, trying to reach out for you to pick him up. You shook your head, face cracking further as more tears rushed down your face. “I love you. Take care of your dad.” _

_ Then you got up again, a groan of pain at the movement punching out of you. Mando tried to move forward, but you flinched away, and he stayed put.  _

_ “Don’t… Don’t get yourself killed, Mando,” you whispered. You cultivated the strength to look at him one more time. The helmet and armor looked back at you. Grey, sleek, and emotionless.  _

_ You grabbed your shit off the floor and started down the ramp. When you got to the bottom, you heard him say, _

_ “I’m sorry.” _

_ You didn’t look back.  _

It’s been months since that day. And now you’re starting to hear voices echoing down the hall. Familiar voices. You keep jogging, pushing on towards the source. After a bit, they can hear you coming too.

“Who are you?!” 

You almost laugh out loud, coming to a stop a couple feet before the exit. It’s Karga. You huff, catching your breath.

“You’re a shit shot, Karga, don’t take my head off,” you call. Then you walk forward, and turn the corner, hands in the air. 

You are met with several firearms pointed at you, which you had anticipated. You’re still breathing a bit heavy from the run. Your eyes quickly scan the group. Karga immediately drops his weapon, face stuck in a look of absolute shock. Next to him is a huge droid. It does not drop its aim at you. And next to the droid, standing so still he almost disappears, is Mando. The kid is cradled in his arm. The second the baby sees you his eyes light up, and he squeals in delight, leaning to grab at you. You want nothing more than to hold him until this planet is all but dust. Instead, you lower your arms again, and start forward toward the group.

“We can talk later. You’ve got fucking Imperials up your ass. We gotta go.”

“I-, How did-” Mando starts, shaken. You shoot him a quick look. 

“Later. Promise.”

~~~~~~

You did not think that later was going to be after watching Mando launch himself into the sky with his wild ass new jetpack. The grapple between Mando and the TIE fighter had been swift but utterly nerve-wracking to watch. You had clutched the Child to your chest, squeezing him tight and ready to hide the sight from him if things went wrong. 

Now you are cradling him in your arms, your feet back at the edge of the ramp to the Razor Crest. He coos softly against your shoulder, half asleep. You try not to hold him too tightly. 

“Thank you for your help,” comes the modulator from behind you. He moves to stand beside you, almost shoulder to shoulder. You both look up the ramp, as if it will somehow lead to answers. Or things to say. 

“I didn’t help,” you admit. “I got here a little too late.” 

“Given how things went last time, I think your lateness is more than forgiven,” he replies. Your heart pulls deeper into your stomach. The view of the ramp brings you back to that evening. The feeling of him hoisting your body along. You can’t help the small shudder. 

“I’m sorry about your people, Mando.” 

You say it with the gentleness it deserves. He turns his head to the side to look at you. You look back to him. The black lines of the visor center in your vision. 

“I would say more, but I don’t think I could ever do it justice.” 

“You don’t need to say more. Thank you.” You tilt your head down a bit to place your lips on the top of the kid’s head. He stirs a bit, but doesn’t move further. The warmth of holding someone close is a strange feeling to experience again. Surprising yourself and everyone else in the galaxy, you haven’t worked with anyone since that day. Haven’t made any new connections. Haven’t touched another living soul.

Unless it’s with the intent to kill. 

“What…” Mando tries to start, still watching you. His voice sounds unsure and stilted. “What will you do, now?” 

“Well,” you start, widening your eyes as you pull your lips away from the Child. “I was here for new pucks. So I’ll probably grab those and… and head off. I guess.” 

“I miss you,” he blurts. It hits you like you had your back turned to a tidal wave. Salt water shoves up your nose, stomach crashes against the coarse, sandy floor, neck whiplashes. You refuse to breathe or look, as either would totally and utterly betray you. It’s so unlike you, but you freeze. It’s all you can think to do. The silence pulls tighter and tighter, like a rubber band- ready to snap at any second. “Sorry,” he mumbles, shaking his head in exasperation at himself as he turns away. You take the opportunity to peek at him again.

He’s staring out at the setting sky. Brilliant tangerine hues are cascading over the horizon, mixing with a darker, denser purple. The brightness of the tired sun reflects these colours over Mando’s armor. It creates this gorgeous, shifting haze over the metal. He looks like he could do anything. Be anything. You breathe in deeply, letting the air flush through you. The second you relax the tension, your emotions flow in. They fill your lungs, your skull, your bone marrow. You’re buzzing like you’re high, looking at this man you feel like you’ve known forever. The one that never leaves your brain.

“What?”

You blink, staring out at him stupidly. He’s turned around again, watching you. You furrow your brows. Had you spoken? You open your mouth to figure out what to say, and out it falls again:

“Did you love me?”

He walks towards you, shortening the distance. Then he reaches forward, and  _ touches  _ you. It’s just the lightest brush of his fingers over your cheek. A ghost of a gesture. You shiver and hold, staring at the visor. From this close, you can see yourself but still not an inkling of him. But you don’t need to. This  _ is _ him. You get that now. 

“I have thought about you…  _ every single day _ since you left,” he confesses, the hand that’s touching you falling back to his side. The modulator crackles a couple times, picking up his attempts to say something else. His helmet adjusts, directing attention to the small bundle of tunic in your arms. The kid hasn’t moved in a while, and as you tune your ears to listen for him, you hear his soft, slow breaths. 

“He goes looking for you,” he says, a sad fondness to his tone. Your lip quivers a tad. You hold him a little closer. “Always sneaking off while I’m not looking. A lot harder to keep track of him by myself. He sleeps on your chair sometimes.” As he talks, Mando moves to untangle the tunic from the baby’s ear with a gentleness that is almost unfathomable to behold. You avert your eyes, feeling your chest tighten the more you let yourself think about it. 

“I left because I didn’t feel safe anymore,” you say, more to hear the excuse out loud than anything else. 

“I know.”

“Because you tried to leave me behind,” you add more strenuously. 

“I- Can I… tell you what happened that day? You don’t have to listen. But if you’d like… I’d like to tell you about it.” 

You mull that over. On the one hand, you doubt anything he’ll say will change what happened. However, you know you need closure. If you’re honest with yourself, no matter how much you push it back, you’re always thinking about it. 

“I’ll listen,” you say carefully. “Inside, so I can put him down.”

~~~~~~~

“I didn’t tell you the full truth,” he begins. The two of you are sat across from each other in the cockpit. You’re trying not to think about how much you’ve missed this stupid ship. Beside you, in the backseat, the kid is resting his head against the cushion of the backrest. Quiet snoring. “In the heat of everything, I just. I let my ego get the best of me. I couldn’t look at you and tell you that I’d let him…” He trails off for a moment, taking a grounding breath. He’s leaning over so his arms are resting on his knees. 

“Just say it, Mando,” you encourage. He has your full attention.

“The third guy got him. Got the Child.”

The weight of that statement hangs around in the air. You feel your face drop, the blood draining from your head. 

“I’ve never faced someone like that before. He was just… stronger than me. Before I could even think I was on my ass and he was taking off with my-” He catches himself, quieting. You nod in encouragement. 

“Your  _ kid _ , Mando. It’s okay.” He pushes himself to sit straight again. 

“Yes. So I went after him. It took a very long time, but I finally managed to get a clean shot that I knew wouldn’t hurt the kid. We fought and grappled. The kid used his powers. It felt like a split second but it must have been much longer than that. By the time I had killed him, I knew something was wrong. I knew you would’ve tracked the footsteps to us by then. To help us. Which meant you were still in town. So I ran the Child back to the ship as fast as I could.”

The deeper he gets into the story, the more nauseous you’re becoming. You feel chills creeping up your skin, sending you through goosebumps. It’s undeniable that he’s being honest. You know his voice. All the little ticks and tells. None of them are surfacing. Just cold, blunt truth. The dread of knowing what you’ve thought to be true is wrong starts creeping into your belly. 

“So when you ran out of the ship…” you trail, voice vacant and small.

“I was coming to get you,” he confirms. “But I was too late. Obviously.” He sounds bitter. His hands grip the arms of the chair, venting some sort of emotion into the fabric. Every cell of you feels like it’s starting to die. You can’t tell if you’re numb or just on the precipice of some huge feeling you cannot place. 

“So all the things I said… All the… All the  _ abuse _ that I  _ spat  _ at you,” you start, growing louder with each passing word. “I  _ left  _ you, Mando-”

“Stop,” he orders. You, for once, follow instruction. Your chest shudders a bit as you remind yourself to breathe. “When I got back to the ship… As I was putting him in his pram… I thought about it. Leaving you.” The pit in your stomach gets heavier. You hold his gaze for a moment, before nodding. 

“Okay.”

“I thought about it. I was panicking. For all I knew, there were more people coming, and clearly they were not Guild.”

“Definitely not,” you assert. Your hand comes up to brush against your ribcage absently. There’s a lump there, where the rib never healed properly. 

“For an…  _ ugly _ moment. I wondered if it was worth it. To get him to safety. What you accused me of was true. I chose to go back for you. But I thought about it.” 

“What changed your mind?” you ask. You’re holding yourself now, other arm crossed over the first. If you don’t, you fear everything you are will spill out onto the floor at his feet.

“The truth. The moment I actually thought of you. Who you are. Who you are to me. It wasn’t a question anymore.”

You sit with that. It’s hard to tell if you’re sinking deep into your chair or if you’re starting to float up out of it. He’s patient with you. Just sits there, motionless. Holding the space while you process the absolute last thing you had ever expected to come of this conversation. 

“Gods, Mando… I was  _ cruel _ .” The words taste rotten in your mouth. He immediately shakes his head, leaning forward. 

“No. You were half dead. You’d just spent what must have been an hour dragging yourself back. And I made it sound like… Made it sound like I couldn’t give less of a fuck. And then even when you started leaving, I still couldn’t say it. That I’d gotten bested and almost gotten him killed. I chose myself and my own fucking shame over  _ you.  _ Let you just… walk off.” 

“You didn’t let me do anything,” you interject with a bittersweet grin. “I go where I wanna go, you know that.” He lets out a little exhale in agreement, tilting his head to the side. 

“True.”

“I was… I think it might’ve broken something in me. When you didn’t show, I realized. I realized I had let you in enough that I was willing to risk my life directly for you. And him. That’s not something I do. Typically.”

“I never should’ve left you at that fucking bar in the first place,” he said lowly. The words were fuming. 

“I told you to,” you point out, shrugging. 

“I should’ve ignored you. Should’ve stayed. Protected you.” 

You laugh. It’s a quiet, vulnerable sound, but amused all the same. 

“I don’t need your protection, Mandalorian.”

“I know. But I’ll give it to you anyways.” 

It’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard leave his mouth. It stuns you. Your mouth is open, as you stare. He breaks you into tiny, little crumbs of your mask. Your thrown-back shoulders slump. Stone turns to sand. You crumble. 

“I fell in love with you, I think,” you whisper, letting yourself spill out. Finally. 

“I’m still in love with you,” he whispers back. 

“Me too.” 

It hurts to finally admit that. You heave a bit, feeling the hot sting of forced-down emotion bubbling up. 

“I want you to stay,” he confesses, a bit louder. Before you can comprehend what’s going on, he’s sliding off his chair to walk to you. He lowers himself onto his knees, sitting on the backs of his feet. You wrack your brain to think of a moment where you’ve seen him as vulnerable as he is now. Postured in front of you like it’s religious for him. You come up empty. “I’m so sorry.” It’s heavy with emotion. Laced with the tightness that only comes with crying. “I can’t bear it, cyar’ika. You’re like a ghost. I dream about you. Wake up seeing your shadow in corners where you aren’t.” You feel like you almost can’t breath from the weight. Pressing down on your spine, your throat. Everything he’s saying is all too true and it’s pulling you into him. 

You sink out of the chair and onto the floor with a soft thud. A tear starts to carve its way down your face. You kneel with him. It feels good, in a way. To surrender for once in your fucking life. You swallow, trying to find the traction to speak. 

“H-have you ever had a peach?” you ask, voice broken in your throat. Mando is still for a second. Then he bursts out laughing. It’s a snotty, messy laugh that lets you know he’s also fallen the rest of the way apart. 

“The fuck is a peach?” he mumbles, sniffing. You laugh a bit too, though it turns into a half-sob the moment it comes out your chest. You grimace, and reach behind you to pull off your bag. The straps come off, and you place it front of you, on the floor between you both. Then you feel the side pocket. They’re pretty worse for wear by now, the juice seeping onto your fingertips as you reach for them. You pull one out. It looks mostly intact, with a small dent carved out of it. 

“Fruit. Bought ‘em from a little boy in town. I was, uh… Thinking about both of you. When I got them. Thinking about the lemons,” you specify, laughing again at the memory. He sniffs again beside you. You notice he’s shaking a bit. You notice you are, too. 

Your free hand comes out to grab one of his. He seems to melt towards the touch. You bring it, carefully, to your face. A shaky sigh leaves him, like it’s the most relieving thing he’s ever felt. 

“Trust me?” you ask so softly you almost wonder if you said it at all. His thumb brushes over the top of your cheekbone, through the tear tracks. Then he just nods. So you take the hand off your face, and place the peach into his palm. Then you let go. Your mouth bends into a somber smile as you lift your arm to your face. It’s a little performative. A mime of old times. You cover your eyes, and the world is dark. “Try it.”

He adjusts. You can hear the sound of the beskar moving against the floor. Then, without hesitation, that familiar slide of his hair on the helmet. It brings you chills. He takes it off, placing it to the side with a delicate  _ plink  _ on the ground. Without the modulator, you can hear every single intimate sound. Every tiny hitch in his breath. The tiny sniffles of snot as he wipes the tears and mess away on something. Probably his sleeve. 

And then you hear the dense crush of teeth baring into the peach. It must be pretty messy, cause he lets out a little sound of surprise. He slurps. You let out a little huff, not able to stop the smile. Mando humms a minute, once he’s finally finished the bite. 

“It’s incredible,” he breathes. You press your lips together, the smile becoming one of content. Things are still for a second. Everything hovers. “Want some?”

“Yeah.” 

He moves forward. So close to you now that you can feel the energy wafting off his body. One hand touches your face again. It’s on your chin, wordlessly alerting you. You open your mouth a bit, arm still firmly placed over your eyes. The peach fuzz hits your lips, and you open wider, crunching into it. Juice immediately runs from your chin down your neck. You bask in it. It tastes like everything. Tastes like sadness, and joy, and like the deepest love you’ve ever felt. Mando pulls the peach away again, other hand coming to brush the trails of juice lightly off your skin. You swallow, shivering a little at the intimacy of his fingers on your neck while you do. 

“Hey, Mando?”

“Hmm?” he responds, pulling his hand away. 

“If I keep my eyes closed… If I don’t look. Would it be against your code to kiss me?” You hear your own voice. It sounds tiny in your ears. Big and scary as you are, and this question feels like staring Death in the face. The big black void in your vision is unforgiving. 

Mando leans forward, and cups your jaw. His hand is sticky on your skin from the peach, which is probably discarded on the floor. You press into the touch, but don’t dare to reach for him. The rules are what he makes of them, for now. It’s important to you that this is done the way it needs to be for him. For the Way. 

“Does this mean you’ll stay?” he dares to ask. Without the helmet, his fear is crystal clear. His guilt mixes with your own. You move your head a bit to kiss his palm. 

“Can’t get rid of me,” you finally murmur. 

“You sure?”

“Are you?”

He pulls your face to his, giving your nose a gentle kiss. Your nerves alight. 

“Yes,” he exhales, now centimeters away from you. You smile a tad. Just the upward turn of the corners of your mouth. 

“Then how’s this for sure?” you whisper. And you kiss him. 

He softens immediately into your lips. It doesn’t take off into a flurry of passion. It doesn’t have to. It’s still, and gentle, and filled with all the missed moments. Just a connection point intimate enough to describe the feelings you could never do justice with words. You pull just enough apart to split your lips, your noses still brushing each other. 

“We should probably get out of here,” you point out. You don't want to ever leave this moment, but you also know how quickly things can go sideways. If you don’t take off soon, the wrong people might take notice. 

“Oh. Okay...” He sounds… embarrassed? Flustered? You take his hand with your free one.

“Hey. I will be first in line to kiss you again, sir. Ten out of ten score. I just think we should maybe do it from the safety of hyperspace-”

“ _ Oh _ ,” he says, this one a exclamation of realization. You screw your face up in a look of confusion, eyes still covered. 

“Wait what did you think I meant?” 

He’s quiet.  _ What the fuck? _ _ What did I say? ‘We should probably get out of here?’ What could he have-? Oh.  _

You grin. He sighs immediately, knowing what’s coming as he moves away from you to get up. You’re not having it. You get up too, feeling around for your chair as a reference point. When you find it, you clutch the back of it, before pointing at his general direction. 

“The Mandalorian is trying to have sex with me!” You can barely hold back the laugh. He chuffs at you as you hear the scrape of his helmet being picked up off the floor. “Woah woah, don’t you hide behind that helmet! You thought I was asking to fuck.”

You pursue forward before giving him the chance to say much. Outstretching your free hand, you search for him in the darkness. After a moment, he reaches for you, grabbing your arm to pull you toward him. 

“Kiss me one more time, before we go?” you ask, suddenly soft again. The hand on your arm squeezes a little tighter. Your hand goes to his hip, pulling him flush to you. You slot together like you were made for it. He dips down, pressing his lips to yours again. 

This time, he furthers it. Your tongues dip together, just a bit. Enough. It’s not as lustful as it is intimate. Soft. Loving. Filling. 

It tastes like peach. 


End file.
